


Sick at Stanford

by HyperactivePuppy



Series: Sam's Misadventures at Stanford [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring Jessica Moore, Early Relationship, Embarrassed Sam Winchester, Embarrassment, F/M, First year at Stanford, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hospitals, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Sam Winchester at Stanford, Sick Character, Sick Sam Winchester, Sick at Stanford, Sick at school, Sickfic, Stanford Era, Vertigo - Freeform, Vomit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-03-05 08:32:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13384074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperactivePuppy/pseuds/HyperactivePuppy
Summary: In his first year at Stanford, Sam gets sick in class and is humiliated when his new girlfriend, Jess looks after him.





	1. Chapter 1

Sam rested his chin in his hand, letting his eyes fall closed for a moment as his professor changed slides on the projector. He had felt fine that morning when he woke up, but halfway through his first class, his stomach had started to churn uncomfortably. At first he had put it off as nerves and lack of sleep, but it had gradually worsened to the point where he was starting to plan an escape route from the lecture hall if things turned bad. 

The student next to him coughed softly under her breath and Sam’s eyes snapped open. The girl was staring at him disapprovingly and he realised his head had drooped forward onto the desk. “Sorry,” he mouthed and turned back to his notebook.

The letters on the page danced around lazily as if they were on a merry go round and Sam had to look away as something started crawling around in his stomach. A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck just as saliva started to pool in the back of his mouth. Sam tried to take slow, even breaths like Dean had taught him, but nothing seemed to calm the intensifying nausea. 

In desperation, Sam shoved his books into his backpack and hurried on shaking legs to the door, ignoring the whispered voices that followed him from behind. As he pushed it open, he tried desperately to remember where the nearest bathroom was. Was there one on this level? Or only the first floor.

The thing inside his stomach started leaping up and down and Sam brought a shaking hand to his mouth as he gagged. The hallway was too loud. There were too many people. He felt sick and he was going to throw up. Now. Right there, in front of everyone. Sam sobbed in despair, turning frantically around. He stumbled in his haste, but somehow managed to grip the side of a tall rubbish bin as the contents of his stomach made a violent reappearance. Not everything made it into the bin, but at least he had something to hold on to now. Sam coughed and groaned, bent forward as far as he could over the bin with his hands gripping the sides with panicked firmness.

His backpack had fallen somewhere to the side—he didn’t know where. Not that he cared right now. Even after throwing up, he could still feel the horrible creature pounding around at his insides. There was nothing else to do but stay hunched over the bin and pray for someone to teleport him out of there.

It didn’t take long for a small crowd of students to gather around him. They stared in wide-eyed fascination as the tall, shaggy-haired first year puked his guts up into the hallway rubbish bin.

Someone asked if he was okay. Another offered water and yet another mumbled something about going to find a nurse. But Sam waved them all away with weak protests and concentrated on not throwing up.

His efforts only worked for a little over five minutes before he felt the familiar burning in the back of his throat. With a sob of despair, he opened his mouth and leaned over the bin. Vomiting hurt. It hurt a lot and even worse, Sam was starting to feel dizzy and light headed. He could feel the room slowly spinning around him and his vision was starting to waver. He stumbled, gripping the sides of the bin tighter in an effort to keep himself upright.

Then, just as his knees started to give way, someone was at his side. Strong hands gripped his arms, positioning him over the bin as yet again brown liquid shot up through his throat and out of his nose. It hurt a lot. Sam felt tears sting his eyes, mixing with the sweat that covered his face.

“Hey, ah…Okay, let’s get you sitting down,” a voice said, and Sam realised with surprise that he recognised it. A glance upwards only confirmed his thoughts as he stared into the concerned and beautiful eyes of his girlfriend. Never had he felt so humiliated

“Mm okay,” he said, his voice hoarse and gravely.

“I beg to differ,” Jess countered as she gently steered Sam away from the bin and over to the wall. She guided him down to the floor and sat down next to him.

Sam groaned and put his head in his hands.

“Hey, I just need to ask you some questions, Sam.”

He could not believe this was happening. He and Jess had only been together a few months and she hadn’t even seen him drunk—let alone violently sick like this. 

“Not feeling well…” Sam muttered, closing his eyes against the black dots that were swarming his vision.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Jess chuckled. “Hey, stay awake for me, okay?”

Sam nodded absently and forced his eyes open.

“Alright, there you go. That’s better. Do you feel faint? Sam?” Jess prompted as his head started to droop forward again. 

Sam nodded almost imperceptibly.

“How about some water.” It wasn’t really a question. Sam felt a cold water bottle being pressed into his hand and someone was tipping it forward so the liquid poured into his mouth. He gasped in surprise, swallowing a huge gulp of the water. It tasted so good and for a few blissful moments he felt better, before it all came rushing back up. In his addled state, he wasn’t fast enough to move aside and the watery bile splashed down his shirt and onto his jeans.

He felt like crying. He _was_ crying. He curled away from Jess, trying to hide from the crowd of staring strangers who somehow gained interest from his misery. He wanted Dean. Oh, what he would give to have his brother there at that moment. Dean would know how to fix this. He _always_ knew.

Sam could dimly hear voices talking around him. They sounded concerned and he was pretty sure one of them was Jess. Then someone – Jess he assumed – was helping him up from the floor. A wave of dizziness swamped him, but somehow he managed to stay on his feet.

The walk through the school was one of the most humiliating ten minutes of his life. People continued to stare, and at one terrible moment they had to stop so that Sam could be sick again. In a _water fountain_. Sam wanted to drop dead then and there, but Jess dragged him the rest of the way to the dorm buildings. It was only when they stopped outside one of the plain doors that Sam realised they weren’t at his apartment.

He shook his head, trying to explain the problem to Jess, but she just pushed him inside and down onto the couch that stood to one side of the room. He had never been in Jess’ apartment and this was certainly not how he had planned his first night over. But at that point there was nothing he could really do, so he succumbed to his exhausted body’s wishes. 

It felt so good to be lying down that Sam just closed his eyes and _breathed_ for a few minutes. It was only when he felt the couch dip beside him that he forced his eyes open again.

Jess was sitting there, holding out a glass of what looked like apple juice. He shook his head, feeling his stomach churn just at the thought of putting anything in it. But Jess was persistent and at last Sam managed two small sips of the juice.

That seemed to satisfy Jess for the time being. She got up and disappeared for a while and Sam slept. He never thought he would be able to fall asleep in such a vulnerable position, but apparently his body had taken matters into its own hands.

 

~*~

 

When he awoke, Sam was surprised to find that it was morning. Golden rays filtered through the half-closed curtains and birds were chirping in the maple tree outside. It would have been relaxing if he hadn’t realised at that moment that he wasn’t in his own bed. Or his own apartment for that matter. He jumped to his feet, bolting off the couch. The dizziness hit him faster than an angry ghost and within five seconds he was on the floor, blinking darkness from his eyes.

“Sam?” a voice called. Footsteps grew near and there was a gasp. Then someone was kneeling down next to him on the floor. “Are you okay?”

“Dizzy,” Sam mumbled, keeping his eyes closed. The room was whirling around him and he felt like he was going to throw up. “I don’t feel good,” he mumbled, gagging as if to prove his own words true.

“Okay, hang on. Let’s get you to the bathroom,” Jess said, tugging at Sam’s arm. “You have to help a little,” she gasped out.

But Sam couldn’t move. Waves of unrelenting dizziness slammed against him and he was gripping the blanket that had fallen to the floor with him like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. He gagged again and dry heaved, his whole face screwed up in pain. 

“Okay, okay…” Jess mumbled, letting go of Sam’s arm and looking around in panic. Finding nothing to serve as a bucket, she grabbed the blanket from the floor and shoved it under Sam’s face just in time to catch the first stream of vomit. He coughed hard and spat up more liquid onto the blanket, his whole body trembling with the effort.

“Shh…shh, Sammy. It’s okay. Just breathe,” Jess whispered, carding her fingers through Sam’s sweaty hair as he continued to heave.

She glanced at the clock and bit her lip. 10am. It had been almost 24 hours since Sam started throwing up.

“Sam, if this doesn’t get better I’m going to have to take you to the hospital,” she whispered, starting to feel scared.

“No, no hospital,” Sam protested weakly, even as his head drooped forward into the vomit covered blanket.

“No Sam…gross…” Jess complained, dragging his head back up and pushing him over so he was lying on the carpet.

“No hospital,” he said again, eyes wide with fear.

“Sam you’re really sick,” Jess argued. “You need medicine—fluids. I can’t give you those things. You’re dehydrated and not getting any better.” She was really starting to get scared now. At first she had thought it was just the flu, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“No,” Sam said weakly, his eyes drifting closed. “Please.” He could feel blackness swooping up to drag him from the room and the last thing he saw was Jess’ scared eyes as she pulled out her phone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two! Lots more Sammy torture ;).

Sam woke to the sound of Jess talking on the phone. He blinked, trying to lift his head from the floor, but as soon as he tried to move, dizziness slammed against him and the room resumed its sickening spinning. He whimpered and closed his eyes.

Jess’ voice stopped and Sam heard the beep of her phone as she hung up. “Sam?” She was shaking him—gently, but Sam wanted to scream at how much it made his head hurt.

“Sam, open your eyes.”

He groaned in response. “Can’t. Won’t stop moving,” he mumbled through gritted teeth.

There was a soft intake of breath and he felt Jess’ warm hand brush across his cheek. “Sammy, I need to take you to the hospital. I phoned a taxi and they’re on their way. Come on, I know you don’t want to but you’re really sick.”

Sam tried to sit up again, hoping to crawl away and show Jess that he really wasn’t sick enough to warrant a trip to the hospital. But the movement proved too much for his spinning head and a moment later he was lying flat again, gagging up bile onto the carpet. Maybe he wasn’t as fine as he had thought…

He could feel Jess’ presence over him and just from the way she was breathing he could tell she was scared. “Come on, Sam. I’m going to help you up, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, she slung Sam’s arm over her shoulder and hauled him up.

It was slow going, but between the two of them, they managed to get down the stairs and outside to where the taxi was waiting. Jess pushed Sam into the backseat and shoved a plastic grocery bag into his lap. “Stanford Hospital,” she said to the driver as she climbed in next to Sam.

Sam closed his eyes again, trying to pretend that the world wasn’t leaping and whirling around him. His head was throbbing again and he felt more nauseous than he ever had in his life. 

“Je-ess,” he gulped out, gagging painfully. He heard the rustle of plastic and felt something brush against his chin as Jess brought the bag to his mouth. He gagged again but nothing came up. Oh God, it hurt. Jess was rubbing his back again but he just couldn’t stop gagging. “Help,” he gasped out between heaves. He was crying now, but he was in too much pain to feel embarrassed. 

Jess was saying something to the driver, but there was a strange ringing in Sam’s ears and he couldn’t make out what she was saying. He wanted to tell Jess about this new symptom, but he just felt too sick. So instead he pressed his face against the fabric seats of the taxi and let himself sob.

The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity to Sam. He kept drifting in and out of consciousness—the world going black whenever the pain became too much. He must have passed out at some point because the next thing he knew, he was lying across several hard chairs in the waiting room. Bright lights shone down on him and he whimpered in pain. In a second, Jess was leaning over him, her eyes wide. “Sammy? You with me?” she asked gently.

Sam nodded, swallowing at the sudden dryness in his mouth. “Water?” he whispered. A glass suddenly appeared in front of him and Jess gently pressed the straw between his lips. He sucked greedily at it, relishing in the cold, fresh, liquid. All too soon the glass was pulled away and Sam whimpered in protest.

“I know, but I don’t want you getting sick again,” Jess said, setting the glass on the floor at her feet.

Sam didn’t really care. At that point he just wanted the water. He groaned and rolled over, trying to get away from the lights. “Hospital?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“Yes,” Jess replied. “We’re just waiting for someone to see you.”

Sam swallowed, suddenly wishing with all his heart that he hadn’t drank so much water. The nausea had returned with full force, burning his stomach and making his eyes water. He struggled up, fighting the dizziness as he searched frantically for a bathroom. 

“Whoa, what’s wrong?” Jess was immediately on her feet, pushing him back down onto the bench.

Sam still had his eyes closed, but his voice was filled with panic as he gasped out “sick.”

It was too late though. Before Jess could even react to his frantic admission, Sam had rolled over and was heaving up bile and water onto the hospital floor.

“Jess!” he sobbed in between heaves. His hand was gripping her arm so tightly it felt numb, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so scared in her life. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Just breathe,” she soothed, rubbing Sam’s back as she positioned him over the chair.

Sam’s mouth was hanging open and spit hung from his lips as his stomach continued to rebel against him.

A few of the other patients were murmuring in disgust and annoyance, but Jess barely heard them as she watched Sam continue to get sick. 

“Je-ess,” Sam mumbled, bringing a shaking hand up to wipe at his mouth.

“I’m here Sam. You’re okay,” Jess reassured gently, even though that clearly wasn’t true.

Sam was shaking his head. “Ca...can’t see. ‘s’all…blurry.”

Jess’s heart leapt with concern. “Just now? Or was it like that before?” she asked.

“’M spinning…gonna…throw up.” Sam coughed and leaned over again, groaning as he dry-heaved painfully.

Jess rubbed her hand in gentle circles across Sam’s back as she murmured gently to him. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. Just got to get you to a doctor.”

She scanned the room desperately and was relieved to see a nurse walking towards them, pushing a wheelchair. She greeted Jess kindly before turning to Sam and helping him into the chair.

“Can I…can I come?” Jess asked, watching the nurse’s gaze fearfully. 

The nurse nodded and Jess let out a sigh of relief. She followed them down a long stark hallway, blinking in the bright lights. At last they stopped before a door and the nurse wheeled Sam in.

There were more people in the room—another nurse and a woman Jess assumed to be a doctor. They were speaking in hushed voices together as they examined Sam, and Jess felt her heart begin to pound painfully in her chest. Just as she was about to barge over and demand answers, the other nurse approached her.

“You’re Jessica Moore? Sam Winchester’s girlfriend?” he asked, checking the sign-in form on his clipboard.

She nodded, biting her lip. “Is he okay?” It sounded like such a dumb question, but she was just so scared.

The nurse nodded. “He will be. We are just getting him stabilised and then we will begin testing.” He frowned as he glanced back at the hospital bed Sam had been transferred to. “He’s lost a lot of fluids so we need to get him on saline right away.”

Jess gulped and nodded slowly, drinking in the information.

“Would you be able to tell me about his symptoms? Tell me all the details—everything is important.”

“Ah…yeah,” Jess said, swallowing when her voice began to shake. “He umm…got sick yesterday afternoon in class and he’s been throwing up ever since. He’s also really dizzy and ah…disorientated I guess. He said he feels like he’s spinning? And ringing, in his ears. Then just before we came in he said his vision was blurry.” She stopped to gulp in air, realising she had just rambled off the symptoms without pausing to breathe. “Umm that’s…everything I think,” she added lamely when the nurse still hadn’t responded.

“Alright, thank you. You may take a seat for now. We won’t know what’s wrong with Sam until we’ve run a few tests so it might be a little while.”

Jess wanted to snap at the nurse but she held her tongue and made her way slowly to the empty seat in the corner of the room. She hated waiting.


End file.
